


Of Coffee and Pilots

by PurrpleCat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU- Modern Setting, Barista!Thorin, Everybody Lives, M/M, Nobody Dies, Pilot!Bilbo, Thorin is a grump, coffeshop!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrpleCat/pseuds/PurrpleCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at precisely three o'clock right in the middle of the rush hour, a British Airways' pilot appears in Starbucks and his sole purpose in life, it would seem, is to drive Thorin insane. </p><p>The fact that the man is simply beautiful may or may not be one of the reasons why. </p><p>Bagginshield Coffee!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Coffee and Pilots

 Heathrow Airport is the busiest airport in Britian, there is no doubt about it. Thousands of people everyday, coming and going – excited tourists already dressed in colourful shorts, dragging their suitacases and families behing to the check-out points; businessmen with their smartphones pressed tightly to their ears as they bark orders through the speaker; airport crew running around in frenzy, politely pointing out that „no, sir, I'm sorry, sir, but this is a no-go area”.

And at the centre of this whole whirlwind sits Starbucks.

To say it is busy on a daily basis is an uderstantement. It is always busy. One customer leaves only to be replaced with three more, each shouting their orders over the chatter of other patrons and the whoosh of the coffee machine. But there is this one point in the whole day when all goes completely beserk. Thorin bearly has the time to whipe the sweat off his forhead before he's bombarded with new orders, all of them rushed because „I've to hurry and catch my plane, make it quick”.

 _I'd show you quick, you little prat_ , Thorin thinks as the coffee machine whines at him, sluggishly spitting out coffee for the suited brat.

Fili and Kili are behind him, taking oders, manning the cash register and somehow operating another machine while they are at it. They move with perfect synchronisation, jumping to and fro like demented squirells, and for a moment Thorin wishes to be ten years younger.

„Almost time, Uncle!”

Thorin groans with despair.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at precisely three o'clock, right in the middle of the rush hour, a British Airways' pilot appears in the cafe and his sole purpose in life, it would seem, is to drive Thorin insane.

The fact that the man is simply beautiful may or may not be one of the reasons why.

It would be perfect if the man remained silent all the time so that Thorin could look at him and enjoy the view in peace. But no, damn it, the man just has to open his big mouth (lovely, pink, soft-looking lips) and order the most complicated drinks, each worse than the last, his bright green eyes (such pretty eyes, too) shining with poorly concealed mischief.

„Aaaaaad, here he is!” Kili whispers as he passes behind his uncle.

Thorin grinds his teeth in frustration. And very pointedly refuses to look at the mop of curly golden hair that has just appeared near the counter.

„Ah, Captain! What can we get for you this time?” Fili says cheerfuly. If Throin moves slightly closer to the cash register, it is only because Kili is still fumbling behind him, taking too much space at and he needs to _breathe_ , damn it.

„Good afternood, Fili.” Thorin closes his eyes briefly. _Don't look, don't look_. „And I'm not a Captain. First Officer, remember?”

 _Damn it_.

„Well, what will it be then, _First Officer_?” he interrupts rudely, slapping the rag he has been using to clean the mugs before serving onto his shoulder. He leans agains the counter, sneering down at the smaller man who blushes mightily and ducks his head a little, his golden curls jumping slightly with the movement. „Hurry up, haven't got all day. Other customers are waiting!”

„M-mister Thorin! Good to see you,” he says, and the barista braces himself. „Tall decaf soy latte with an extra shot and cream, please.”

Thorin stares at him for a while, his frown darkening. Soy he can uderstand. But soy _and_ cream?

He opens his mouth to say something he would certainly regret later, but Kili elbows him in the side. Traitor.

„Decaf, Mister Bilbo, really?” Killi chimes in, all smiles and charm. Thorin hates him for a second.

The pilot smiles shakily, his eyes moving swiftly from the barista to the younger man.

„Yes, well, Captain Nori promised to let me take-off today,” he chuckles nervously, his hands wringing his hat a bit. „It wouldn't do to crash the plane becasue my hands were shaking too much.”

He is too adorable. Thorin needs him to get out before he does something very stupid... Like snatch him up and hide him somewhere where noone else would find him and see his charming, shy, stupid little smile.

Thorin can feel Bilbo's eyes on him as he works on the order. He scowls at the paper cup as if it personaly offended him and forces himself not to look back. _Don't, Thorin, no, before you say something stupid, don't..._

„Flying out today?”

_Ah, damn it._

The pilot jerks his head a bit to look him in the eye. And blushes. Again. _Fuck_ .

„Y-yes. To Edinburgh.”

„Not far, then,” Thorin grumbles, setting the ordered drink in front of Bilbo. The pilot smiles at him shyly, his small hands wrapping around the steaming cup. _Godfuckingdamnit._

„No, not far. I might pop in after we come back to London tonight,” he says and adds hastily: „For coffee, of course.

Of course. Why else would he come here? Surely not to see the rude barista, that's for sure.

Thorin is very careful not to let their fingers touch as Bilbo passes him the money.

 

*

 

„Three o'clock!”

Thorin moans into his fist with frustration.

„Hello! Quite a crowd you got here!”

Him again. _Jesus Christ, if you love me at all, don't let him wear the uniform._

Thorin looks up. And scowls.

Damn uniforms, hugging Bilbo's small frame so snuggly and making his eyes seem even brighter, his sweet curls even more adorable.

„What now?” he growls. Bilbo flinches at the tone, and Thorin imidiately feels horrible. God hates him. He'll burn in the deepest pit of Hell for snapping at sweet little man because he's too beautiful to be real, but what other choice does he have, really, when the man clearly enjoys making his job difficult?

Fili passes him and kicks him on the shin.

„Apologies,” he mutters gruffly, refusing to meet Bilbo's eyes. „What can I get you?”

_Be polite. Be polite._

„Lactose free double mocha with a shot of sugar free vanilla.”

Thorin wants to weep.

 

*

„No.”

„Uncle.”

„Kili, I said no!”

„You will have to get out of there at some point!”

 

Silence.

 

„What time is it?”

„Two fiftysix.”

„Forget it.”

„Damnit, Thorin, I need to pee!”

 

*

 

„Hello.”

Thorin stops cleaning the counter and looks up with a scowl. The crowd is considerably smaller today, most of the patrons already sitting down with their coffee or waiting for Fili to finish preparing their drinks to-go.

Bilbo smiles at him, waving a little. Thorin thanks (and curses) his lucky stars that he's not wearing his uniform.

He nods in greeting, his eyes roaming the round face. There are dark shadows under the pilots eyes and he looks positively exhausted.

„Long flight?” he hears himself ask. His voice sounds gentle, not the usual grumpy tone, and Bilbo stares at him for a moment in shock. Then he smiles - a wide, toothy grin that leaves Thorin breathless.

„Yeah, almost twelve hours. I'm about to collapse. Coffee would certainly help.”

„What can I get you?”

„Sugar free, non-fat, no foam caramel macchiato with whipped cream. And with extra caramel.”

„You must be fucking joking.”

Bilbo laughs, bright and carefree. After he leaves with his order, Thorin cannot wipe the stupid grin off his face.

 

*

 

„You should ask him out.”

Thorin pauses cleaning the mugs and looks at Fili leaning against the sink. He's frowning a little, lips pressed into a line, and Thorin doesn't want to listen to whatever the kid has to say.

„Who now?” he asks instead, focusing too hard on the mug in his hands.

„You know who,” Fili says. „And don't say Voldemort,” he warns cheekily, and Thorin sighs.

„Not happening,” he mutters gloomly, putting down the mug with too much force. It doesn't break.

„And why not? You like him! And he likes you! So what's stopping you?”

Thorin frowns thunderously, tugging at his beard. It's an annoying habit but he can't get rid of it, especially when he's agitated.

„He doesn't like me,” he snaps, turning around to get another mug. He cleans it aggresively. „Besides, keep your huge nose out of my business.”

„The nose runs in the family, and you know it. Yours is big too. Shut up. Listen to me – he fancies you. He thinks you're God's gift to Earth and noone knows why, because you're being a complete arse to him.”

Thorin looks at him suspiciously, the washing forgoten. His eyes narrow dangerously. Fili swallows.

„And how would you know what he thinks, hm?” he asks with a fake smile that's all teeth and no humour.

„We... we talk a bit.”

Thorin's smile widens.

„You talk. Really.”

„Mmmh. I mean, yeah. Sometimes. When... when we go out. F-for drinks.” Fili looks around for an easy escape but his uncle has him cornered, and he adds hastily: „A-as friends, nothing more, Kili comes, too, I swear to Lord, _pleasedon'tkillme_ !”

Thorin leans back a little, a thoughtful frown appearing on his foreheard. He stares at Fili for a moment longer in silence, then nods and steps away. The younger man realizes he has been holding his breath and releases it shakily.

„What _exactly_ did he say?”

 

*

 

„Good morning!”

Thorin's heard jerks upwards and a mug tumbles from his hands, shattering into tiny pieces as it hits the polished tiles. Bilbo stares at him in fright, then ducks under the counter and swiftly starts collecting the broken shrads.

„I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!”

Thorin stares at the man in shock. It was way too early, not even ten o'clock, what the well was Bilbo doing here?

„I'll pay you back, I promise, just,” he pauses, gazing up at Thorin pleadingly, „please don't yell.”

Thorin swallows.

„I'm not gonna yell,” he grumbles and crouches down to help. Bilbo's face is so close he can see pale freckles on his nose and cheeks.

The pilot smiles charmingly, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners.

And Thorin is utterly lost.

„Will you go out with me?”

Bilbo stares.

_God hates me._

Thorin pales slightly, trying to find something to say and retreat, damn it, retreat, abort mission!

Bilbo's smile lits up the whole cafe. „Yes. Yes, I'd love to.”

Thorin breathes out heavily. _God loves me._

 

*

 

Bilbo phones him to move dinner to another day. His schedule has changed and he's flying out to New York in the morning and he needs to pack and sleep. Thorin assures him it's alright and they agree to meet next week. He tries to keep the disappointment off his face when Kili asks how was the date.

 

*

„I'm really sorry, Thorin. I'll make it up to you as soon as I'm back.”

„Yeah. Yeah, no problem, I understand. Have a safe flight.”

„Thanks. See you when I get back.”

 

*

 

When they finally do go out, Bilbo is so tired he falls asleep in the car. Thorin has no heart to wake him so he drives around London aimlessly for a few hours until the pilot wakes up.

He gets a shy kiss on the cheek for his troubles when he drops Bilbo off at his flat. Later, in his bed, he wanks to the memory of Bilbo's mouth on his skin and comes harder than ever.

 

*

„ Thorin.”

„Hm?”

Bilbo is sitting on the floor, his feet curled under him, head leaning back against the sofa. He looks at Thorin upside down, resting his cheek against the other man's knee, empty wine glass dangling from his fingers.

„I think you should take me to bed now.”

Thorin chokes on his whisky.

Later that night, they lay together trying to catch their breath. Thorin burrows his face in Bilbo's neck, puffs of air tickling his slightly pointy ear. Bilbo strokes his hair gently, wrapping the long strands around his fingers.

„Say,” he mutters sleeply, „why do you insist on tying your hair back?”

Thorin hums in answer, too tired to form proper words. Bilbo chuckles, nudging his calf with his toes.

„Thorin.”

„They get in t'way when I'm workin'.”

„Kili and Fili manage.”

„Kili and Fili are vain little shits that prefer to look good than be comfortable.”

Bilbo is quiet for a while, and when he speaks again Thorin can hear a smile in his voice.

„They do look good though.”

Thorin frowns and lifts his head to glare at Bilbo. The pilot giggles.

„Why are you always so grumpy?” he asks innocently, his fingers still playing with the barista's hair.

„M'not always grumpy,” Thorin growls.

„Sure y'are. I bet you jumped out of your mama already frowni-ngggh!”

Bilbo moans loudly as Thorin slides down his body, beard scratching soft skin of his lover's side and belly. „You were saying?” he mumbles, his lips pressed near the belly-button. Bilbo takes a deep breath, a shiver wrecking his body.

„Y-you're s-so grumpy,” Thorin presses his lips closer and blows. Bilbo giggles, trying to push himself away from the assault, but he's too weak to do so. „Thorin, stop, you great brute, stop!”

Thorin smirks up at him, rubbing his face against Bilbo. The pilot moans again, his eyes bright with laughter.

„I'll show you brute,” he growls, and Bilbo doesn't say anything for the rest of the night except for Thorin's name.

 

*

 

Thorin smiles slightly when the clock strikes three and the door open. Bilbo strolls causally to the counter, his curls covered by the pilot's hat that should look ridiculous but actually does things to Thorin's insides that he will never admit to, and smiles shyly as he reaches over to tug the barista's head down to his level.

„Hello,” he says quietly, his cheeks tinged with pink, his eyes bright with mischief.

„Hello,” Thorin says, a grin tugging at his lips. He forces himself to frown. „What can I get you?”

„Tall latte, please.”

Thorin throws back his head and laughs. Bilbo kisses his smiling lips and Thorin thinks that life has never tasted sweeter.

 

 


End file.
